Holding The Unopened Envelope
Walking back from the hospital, I clutched the DNA results like they were a ticking time bomb. Each step felt heavy, as if my shoes were made of lead.
I could hear children laughing in the distance, and it mixed oddly with my racing thoughts. The unopened envelope burned in my hand, a promise of answers I wasn’t sure I wanted.
But it was too late to turn back—I had to know.